To Chloe in an ill Humour

Consider, sweet maid, and endeavour
To conquer that pride in thy breast;
It is not an haughty behaviour
Will set off thy charms to the best.

The ocean, when calm, may delight you;
But should a loud tempest arise,
The billows enrag'd wou'd affright you:
Loud objects of awful surprize!

'Tis thus, when good humour diffuses
Its beams o'er the face of a fair;
With rapture his heart a man loses,
While frowns turn love to despair.